


Thunderstorms of Nightmares.

by AlyxJamieRae



Series: Weather of Emotions [1]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: AU sort of, Character Death, F/F, Mention of abuse, Not major though, Parent Death, mention of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4075738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyxJamieRae/pseuds/AlyxJamieRae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura recalls her past and reveals why she hates thunderstorms so much. AU kinda. Still set as the series is, just Laura's past is changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunderstorms of Nightmares.

_You've never been good with thunderstorms. Not since you were nine. Not since the night your mother died. You remember it clearly, as if it didn't happen ten years ago, but happened yesterday. You were driving home with your mother from your Krav Maga lesson, the rain was coming down hard, cracks of lighting etched across the sky and rumbles of thunder that went on for what seemed like hours. You loved it then, watching the rain cascade down your window, making out the shapes of the trees, buildings and other cars on the road when the lightning flashed. You loved it, till it caused you to lose your mother._

_You know it wasn't really the storms fault, it just helped. It had been raining on and off all day, getting ready for the storm later on. The roads were slick and puddles were littering the street. You didn't see the truck, the lightning let you down. Maybe if there was a flash, you could have warned your mother. But there wasn't, and you couldn't. It came out of no where, one moment you were in the car watching the rain, your mother smiling and asking you about your lesson. The next, your car was rolling down an embankment. The truck had hit your mother's side of the car._

_You don't know how long you were rolling, but the car suddenly came to a stop, you could hear the metal crunching in your ears. You knew then that something awful had happened. That was confirmed when a flash of lightning showed the front of the car. The car had crashed into a tree, effectively crushing the front. You glanced to your mother and panic rose in your chest. Her legs were trapped, there was a long gash on her forehead, and her eyes were closed. You ignored the pain in your leg and side as you scrambled to the front seat. You begged your mother to wake up, you only knew she was alive by the slow rise and fall of her chest._

_You didn't realize anyone had seen the accident till a man was telling you to get out the car. He was telling you there was a leak and you needed to leave. But how could you? How could you leave your mother in the car when you could clearly see she was trapped. He tried the whole time it took for the firefighters and paramedics to get to the scene. You had to be pulled out of the wreck of the car by firefighters, still, you kicked and screamed at them to help your mother. They didn't get the chance. You had just cleared the embankment when there was a loud bang and the car went up in flames. Your mother was still inside the car._

_The rest of the night went by in a blur, you had to go to hospital, that much you remember, you'd broken your leg in the crash. The doctor's were amazed you hadn't felt much pain as you moved around on it. They put it down to the shock of what happened. You were allowed home that night, or maybe it was early morning. You can't remember very well, you just know you woke up in your own bed. Your father had fallen asleep in a rocking chair you had in the corner of your room. He was always protective and worried about you._

_You had expected that to amplify after the crash. It didn't. You don't remember the funeral, you just remember many people stood around a grave, you remember watching them lower the coffin in the ground. You remember the panic that rose in your chest at the thought of your mother being alone down there, in the cold dark ground. You felt the urge to jump onto the coffin, to stay with her. You think you might had if your father hadn't been holding your hand. The next few months passed in a blur, a mess of sorting out your mother's affairs and your father worrying._

_He aged over night, the once happy man you had known was gone, left was just the shell of your father. He had constant bags under his eyes, a speckling of grey to his hair now. He always looked distant, like he had no time for your any more. You realized once you were ten that it was true. Your father had been drinking almost constantly since your mother's death, though he did well to hide it from you, you still smelt the alcohol on his breath. He blamed you, told you it was your fault your mother died, if only you hadn't of had a lesson that night._

_You know he didn't really mean it, after all, the lessons were his idea, not yours. But you knew he had to take it anger out somewhere, it just happened to be with you. He cleaned up his act slightly after that, he was a good father, for a couple of years. By the time you were fourteen your father had enough. He informed you one evening that you'd be moving, Oklahoma was to be your new home. So far from Toronto, from your friends. From your mother. You never got a say, no matter how much you protested the move, your father would always return your comments with a 'You will do as you are told Laura Hollis, so help me.'_

_You didn't like your new home, it was big, there were too many room's. You didn't understand why you needed a house with so many rooms when it was just you and your father. But he had insisted that this house was perfect. Boxes littered the house for months, for just two people, you had a lot of things. You didn't say anything when all your mother's stuff was put in the attic space, though you would have preferred her things to be on display, you understood that it hurt your father. You snuck a photo of her out of one of the boxes before your father could see. You kept it under your bed, pulling it out on night's that were tormented by storms._

_For the first few months, all was normal. Then there was a storm that lasted a few days. You saw your father reaching for the bottle more often than not on those days, trying to drown out the memory of the storm that killed your mother. You tried one night to stop him. That's when he hit you. He didn't look sorry for it, he just told you to leave. You worried about your father, he wasn't a violent man, but the drinking and your mother's death changed him. You kept to yourself after that. Watching but never saying anything._

_You didn't think it would happen again, but it did. The drinking got worse, and so did your father. Your skin was littered purple, black and blue. You hid the marks well, no one ever thought to ask if you were okay, you'd bite your lip when they touched one of the fresh bruises, making sure not to show your pain. You couldn't lose your father too, you needed him. The abuse got worse though, some night's he would just yell at you, telling you that it was your fault your mother was gone, that he was drinking. He'd tell you he only hit you to punish you for what you did._

_You believed him after a while, had you not that the lesson, your mother wouldn't have come to pick you up. Had you been able to see the truck, you could have warned her. Your father told you more often than not that he wished it had been you that had died. He told you that he and your mother could have had another child, but he'll never get another her. You soon gave up thinking he didn't mean it, he was right, they could have had another child. You were replaceable, your mother wasn't._

_You found the blade at sixteen. Along with the bruises, you now had fresh pink lines scattered across your body, it was liberating, now your father wasn't the only one hurting you. You took some control back. You went to school once, bruises up and down your arms, cuts on your legs, a black eye to top it all off. That was the first time someone asked you if everything was okay at home. You lied to them, told them everything was fine, they had only seen the bruises and black eye so you played it off as a mugging. It worked as well, you'd lost your wallet a few days back so it was a believable story._

_No one asked you again. You took the abuse from your father, from yourself. You tried to tell yourself sometimes that it could be worse, that others had it worse than you. You tried to justify what your father was doing to you. He'd lost his wife and took to the bottle, the violence wasn't his fault, it was the drink. You told yourself that over and over that you began to believe it. You put up with everything because at the end of the day, he was your father and all you had left, and you loved him._

_Eighteen was when it all changed. Another storm, another parent lost. A hurricane had been forecast for your area, you knew what to do, get to the shelter, get your father and his alcohol to the shelter. Except when you tried to rouse your father from his drunken slumber on the couch, it was impossible. There was no way you could move him, over the years your body grew weak, you'd soon stopped eating much, your father taking everything he could and leaving you scraps. The storm was getting worse outside, you knew if you didn't get to the shelter soon, you were going to die._

_You made the decision to leave him there, drunk and passed out on the couch. You only just made it to your shelter before the hurricane tore up your house from where it stood. Your father still inside. You were taken back to the night you lost your mother, the night you lost your father. There was so little in comparison to what happened to both of them, but in the end, you'd left them to their fate. You'd left them both to die. Your mother in a car accident that let to an explosion. Your father to a storm that lead to a hurricane tearing your house away._

_You should have been grateful to have survived. But you weren't. You were alone now, there was no one. You had no home to go to, no mother, no father, you'd lost contact with all other relatives when your mother had died. You did the only thing you could, enlisted at a university. This move took you far away from where your mother and father died. This move took you to Austria. You were nineteen when you got to Silas university. Nineteen and alone in the world, in a new place, with no one to turn to._

_Until you met Carmilla. You'd never told her your past, but she'd told you hers. You hadn't planned on telling her so much of your past in one night, but you realize why she made you talk. A storm had rages that night and you were terrified. Storms took the people you loved away from you. You didn't want this one to take Carmilla from you. She told you to talk, about anything. You could have picked a happier memory to share with her. But you didn't, because your mother and father were at the forefront of your mind during the storm._

_You turned your head to look at Carmilla. She had an unreadable expression on her face. Somewhere between anger and protection, with a little hatred thrown in, but the clearest one, was love. You burried yourself in her arms as she held you. You felt safe, and the storm had passed. You'd managed to keep the one you loved. This time. Sleep soon caught up with you, wrapped up in Carmilla's arms, warm and safe, you felt the pull of sleep. With one last mutter on your lips, you fell into a deep sleep, a smile on your lips._

_"I love you Carm."_


End file.
